Pressed White Trousers
by Anduria Trianys
Summary: Spoilers for 2 x 11 'Adrift'. Jack told Gwen he was going 'Weevil hunting with Ianto'...but what were they really doing? And why was he wearing those white trousers? Pure Janto fluff.


Pressed White Trousers

Jack's grin grew broader as he turned his back on Gwen and made his way towards the lift. He tipped Tosh a wink as he left, causing her to smile knowingly at him as he threw on his coat and made his way onto the Plass, his coat billowing slightly in the wind that had suddenly sprung up. With a practiced swing of his arm, he surveyed the surrounding area and stepped nonchalantly onto the Plass.

He half-glided over towards the familiar figure waiting for him near the pier and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, breathing in the familiar scent of his freshly washed shirt. "Guess who," he said in a stage whisper.

Ianto's posture shifted as he pretended to think about it. "Well, let me see," he said. "With that unusual scent combined with the strange brown device on your wrist, I'd say it's either Captain Jack Harkness, in which case feel free to whisk me away –"

"And he's got it in one!" Jack couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Just as well," replied Ianto as he turned around. "Because I only know one other person who wears a wrist strap like that and if it had been him, you'd probably have arrived to find rather a large mess on the street. And no," he added, as Jack's eyes began to twinkle, "I don't mean that in a good way."

"Oh, it would have been a good way," purred Jack as he threaded his arm through Ianto's, linking their fingers together. "Anything involving you is a good thing, even if it involves me having to attempt to explain the presence of a rather dead John Hart." He dropped his voice suddenly and let his lips brush over Ianto's ear. "But I have a plan for tonight that will blow anything he could pull off out of the water."

"Indeed?" Ianto turned his body so he was looking at Jack. "And where is tonight's Weevil hunt," his eyes twinkled in anticipation as he whispered their standard phrase, "going to lead us?"

Jack's smile broadened even more. "Wait and see," he whispered. "Just wait and see."

He led Ianto across the Plass, past the white Norwegian church and round a corner to where a shining silver Aston Martin was parked. Brushing his hand over his crease-free white trousers, presumably to remove a bit of imaginary dust, he opened the back door and bowed slightly. "After you, sir," he said, making a small gesture with his free hand towards the plush interior.

Ianto felt his grin growing wider as he made his way towards the car, only barely restraining himself from skipping. He flashed Jack a small smirk as he accepted his hand and slid elegantly into the passenger seat, murmuring in pleasure at the feel of the soft furnishings at his back.

"Jack," he said as his lover settled into the driver's seat. "Not that I'm complaining, but…what's going on here?"

Jack shrugged. "Well…I just decided that there's no reason not to travel in style," he replied, revving up the engine slightly as they wound their way across the silk-smooth road. "And I also thought that I wanted to pamper you a little bit."

They drove for a long time before Jack finally made a right turning up a road which until then had been hidden and drove towards what appeared to be a small farmhouse and parked neatly outside the front door before stepping out and escorting Ianto inside.

~*~

Ianto couldn't stop gazing around him as he stepped over the threshold of the house. When Jack had pulled up outside the small house, he had wondered what was going on and why his lover had brought him here. He wasn't one for frivolity, but he had, probably rather selfishly, expected more than just this.

However, as Jack took him up the stairs, he understood exactly why he had been brought here. His mouth fell open slightly as he was brought out to a rooftop terrace outlined with hundreds of small candles, including some in amongst the bright flowers that were dotted liberally across the mottled grey slabs. A table was set for two and overlooking the panoramic view of Cardiff spread out before them and the two fine china plates and crystal glasses were shimmering in the light of a single white candle. As he watched, he saw Jack appear with a simple white vase with a bunch of yellow Welsh poppies, surrounded by white jasmine and green ferns. Gently, he set it underneath the candle so that the light danced off the petals, and pulled out a chair for Ianto to sit in with a rather nervous smile.

"I know it's not exactly _nouvelle cuisine_," he said as he revealed that the food on the plates was a simple dish, consisting of jasmine rice and a steamy chicken curry, garnished with fresh coriander and with a basket of _chapattis _on the side. "But it is at least hand made."

Ianto's eyes widened. "You cooked this?" Of course, he knew that Jack could cook – that memorable night a few days after Gwen's wedding when he had cooked a beautiful Chinese meal from scratch sprung to mind – but he was still astonished that he would go to all this trouble for him. He knew, deep down, that it was ridiculous, but he still couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve it.

Jack smiled at him. "Did you expect a takeaway?" he asked, pulling out a chair for Ianto to sit in before he sat down opposite him. "No, I told you; tonight is the night where I pamper you – and I'm going to start with a good meal." He reached for his glass and touched it against Ianto's. "Here's to us – a night of Weevil hunting and pressed white trousers."

Ianto laughed outright this time, pure happiness bubbling inside him as their glasses clinked together. "Here's to a night of Weevil hunting," he echoed, "and pressed white trousers."


End file.
